


Heartless

by hubridbunny



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Original Characters - Freeform, Short Chapters, but not really, handicapped character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hubridbunny/pseuds/hubridbunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of an abandoned creation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Hello There. I would like to introduce myself, although... I don't know my name. Please, excuse me for that. You can call me anything you like, I suppose.

Also, I'd like to take a moment to ask you to overlook my appearance. You see, it's been quite a while since anyone has taken any interest in me. In fact, it's been several years I believe since anyone has even noticed me. I've been buried under all of this... _stuff_...

Well, out of sight, out of mind, I suppose?


	2. A Heart

I didn't always look this way, I don't think. I remember I used to be able to walk, a long time ago, but now I’ve got this hole in my neck and I can't move anything anymore. I've never had arms, so I can't be too sad about that, but I wish I were at least able to move my feet a little again.

Of course, it's not like I’d be able to do much walking while the lower half of my body is trapped in this bag, but I digress.

I don't remember ever having two eyes, either, but that doesn't bother me too much. What can you see with two that you can't see with one, anyway?

I've also never had a mouth, but I guess that it wouldn't be too useful without ears, so that's no big deal.

... I'm sorry. You must be just on the verge of running away, what with me having all these holes and missing parts. I won't be sad if you leave (I _have_ been alone all this time, after all), but before you do I want to mention the only thing my creator _did_ give me.

... A heart.


	3. Forgotten

When I was born, I wasn't much different than I am now. Aside from the hole in my neck and the two braces holding up my head, I looked the exact same.

Back then I had something to look forward to every day. Every day, my creator would come over to me, hold me tenderly, and fix me up. First they gave me a body, then an eye, and then my heart.

I still remember the day that I was given my heart... the look on their face was so loving as they stitched it into me.

Then, one day, they didn't come. My mind reeled with why, what might have happened to them, until much later, when I resigned to just waiting for them to return.

I was sitting there, waiting for my creator to come back, for a long time. Finally, one day, they returned! Something was different, though, and they picked me up roughly and gave me to someone else. All I could do was watch with my one eye as this new person took scissors and cut my neck open. And oh, did it hurt...

Then they inserted these two braces that are now keeping my head on my body, and handed me back to my creator.

I probably would have cried from the pain if I had the tears to, and jumped in my creator's arms if I had the arms to, but I didn't (and still don't), so I simply found myself being passed from this person back to my creator.

After that, I was left on a table with dozens of other unfinished creations. I never saw my creator again, but every once in a while something new would be added to the pile on the table, until finally I was buried and forgotten.


	4. Like a Noose

... And that's what I’ve been doing all this time: just waiting.

Of course, every once in a while something would change, like one of us on the pile would be taken away, only to return later, slightly different, but it was a long time until anything really happened.

Then one day, someone came over and gathered me up and stuffed me, along with some other things like what looked to be spools of thread and different fabrics, into a little white bag with a single drawstring. It was tight and cramped inside the bag and I guess my head just wouldn't fit, because this person tried for a while to cram it inside, too, before finally settling on letting it stay outside.

Then they tightened the single drawstring around my neck, like a noose, and put me back where I was on the table, where I’ve been ever since.


	5. Hate Him

Nothing has happened for a long time. Every day I wait and wait for something, _anything_ , to happen. I watch as new 'projects' are added to the pile on the table, just piling up higher and higher.

We’re all the same, really. Some of us (the lucky ones) might be taken off the table one day and get a few new parts or get a little bit closer to completion, but none of us are ever finished.

Some of the creations on this table only ever got as far as a head with no features, while others have whole bodies or other body parts, but it seems as if I am the most finished one here.

Now, another one is added to the pile. He doesn't look like much, that's for sure. I know he will be just like myself and all the others (it seems as if giving a new creation a few days of love and then an eternity of nothingness is a common trend for the creator).

But day after day, the creator comes back for him and slowly he is getting closer to being finished.

I’m astounded. I was proven wrong. This new creation, still just a child as compared to some of the ones who have been on this pile for years and years, has been finished.

And, though I hate to admit it, I am jealous, very jealous. Why did the creator complete _him_? What made him so special? He is, as far as I know, the only project the creator has ever cared enough about to finish, and I hate him for it.


	6. Happily Ever After

Since then, the creator hasn’t come back to the table, but that is just fine by me. I felt more than a bit betrayed, though now I don't know if it was completely justified or not. After my anger cooled down a bit and I really thought on it, I realized that there are others on the table who are even older than me, some of whom don't even have bodies. At first I must have seemed, to them, to be just like that one who was finished.

Thoughts like these, along with memories of my 'childhood', so to speak, are the ones that have kept me company for all of the years I have sat on this table, in this bag, waiting for the day that I hope will eventually come. Children’s books always end with a 'happily ever after', and I dream that someday, I will get my own ‘happily ever after’. I wish for it with all of my being, with all of my stitched-together heart.


	7. Don't Even Notice

I feel hands carefully removing me from under the pile on the table, then the drawstring of the bag loosens from around my neck and I am being lifted out of it. Although I can't sleep or even really dream, I’m sure I must be dreaming.

I see my creator, looking at me with the same look they had when I was born—the same loving look they had when they stitched in my heart.

They are carrying me away from the table, holding me gingerly in their hand. They hold me close and give me a tight hug. It’s too good to be true! My heart feels about ready to burst at the seams from how happy I am.

I am so happy that I was wrong to think they had forgotten about me.

My mind races as I imagine what it will be like to finally have arms and ears and two eyes and a mouth.

I’m so caught up in dreaming about the day when I will finally be finished that I don't even notice (until it’s too late) the pair of scissors in my creator's other hand.

I feel a sharp pain, and then there is only nothingness.


	8. Stronger

I don't know how much time passed, but I don’t think I’ve been out for too long. When I wake up, the first thing I notice is that I can see much better than I have ever been able to; I can clearly see everything around me instead of just some of it.

As I figured out later, my creator had given me another eye while I was 'unconscious'. I also discovered a few other repairs they made, such as fixing the rip in my neck. Now, there are strong stitches there, holding my head and body together without the help of the two braces.

It feels strange to be able to move my body again, and even though I still don't have any arms, I manage to maneuver myself into a position where I can move my legs a little. And I may be just imagining it, but they feel stronger, somehow… My whole body does.


	9. Repeat the Process

It is just like back when I was first born. Every day I look forward to the creator coming over to work on me, to fix me up. I’m filled with a wonderful feeling every time they pick me up and make some new improvement, but my happiness and excitement is poisoned by a fear that haunts me every day.

_What if today is the day that they don't come?_

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, that fear lurks, always. Every day I worry myself sick until my creator comes and proves me wrong, quieting the fear until the next day, when we repeat the process all over again.


	10. Hesitate

Every day the creator comes and does _something_ to me, though I never know quite _what_. I still have only two eyes, a head, a body, and a heart, so I wonder… just what is it that they are doing to me each and every day?

I am happy that the creator is paying attention to me, but it just doesn't seem to satisfy me the way it used to. I suppose I may have just become impatient, but I’m also hesitant to believe that this is the ‘happily ever after’ I have been waiting for.

Yes, they had rescued me from the table, but just what did that mean? Nothing, if I was just going to be dropped off somewhere else in a few weeks and have the same thing happen to me all over again.

I would rather not get my hopes up, in case this really is just fleeting and I end up getting hurt again.


	11. Learn to Speak

My creator picks me up and I feel like crying when I see the scissors in their hand. _Of course_ it was too good to be true. I feel no pride at being right about that, though. I just feel… disappointed. I resign to letting my creator cut me open. I feel it as they trim out a hole in the top of my head… and then they put down the scissors.

Using a big needle (bigger than any of the others by a long shot) and some thread, they begin stitching a sort of zigzag pattern just below my eyes, and I wonder a bit about what they are doing.

When they are finished, they remove the needle and thread, and take a long look at me.

They had given me a mouth!

Right away I try to speak, but something is strange and I can't say a single word. I worry that something is wrong with me for not being able to speak, but my creator gives me a look of realization and brings back the scissors, cutting the stitches away. It seems like something was wrong with my mouth.

Going back inside my head with the needle and thread, they sew the stitches back on upside-down. Or, rather, right-side-up.

When they are finished, they smile at me with that loving look of theirs, sew back up the hole in the top of my head, and leave.

My heart feels like it is overflowing with love for my creator, and my happiness squashes any doubts I had about them.

They do still love me, and they are going to finish me!


	12. Happy Birthday

I later discovered that I still can't speak for some reason or another, but I’m not too bothered by that fact. After all, I still have no ears, so what does it matter?

I’m thrilled just to know that my creator still cares for me, and that is enough for me.

It has been a few weeks since then, and the time has passed without much progress, but my creator comes over every day to fix me up just a bit. I can feel it... the feeling of, little by little, coming closer to finally being finished.

They are on their way to work on me today. I watch the creator walk over... and past me! It comes as such a surprise that I am left stunned and completely unsure of what to do.

What is going on? There is no way my creator would leave me like before! There is just no way... I won’t let it happen! Not after everything that has happened in the past few years since I was "born" and the creator brought me into this world!

I desperately try to make use of the mouth they had given me, to call out to them to come back, but I just can't. It seems like it is stitched shut, but without arms to rip out the stitches what can I do?

I feel helpless, completely unable to do anything to prevent my sad history from repeating itself. I would cry, but I can’t even do that because of my lack of tears.

All I can do is wait for the inevitable... my re-introduction to the table that all of the creator's other unfinished creations call home.

I wait and wait, for hours and hours, but nothing happens. Nothing. I can't even see my creator, though I know they are nearby.

My stitched heart cries out that they haven't left yet, that there is still hope, but I crush all of those thoughts. I have been through this once before already! There is no point in hoping when the ending is already known.

Finally, finally, I see my creator again. It is strange... they certainly don't look as they had all those years ago, when they abandoned me the first time. They look older now. They are smiling, but not with the smile I know. They are brimming with pride.

I feel their hands encircle me, lifting me up tenderly. They carry me away and set me down on something incredibly soft and plush. Then, they conjure up a needle and thread from somewhere and gently stitch around my head. They are attaching something to me, but I can’t see what, and I wonder what is going on.

They finish and they carefully tie a knot in the thread, ensuring that the stitches will never come undone. Then, with scissors, they snip the extra thread at the end away in one clean cut.

Suddenly, thousands of... _sounds_... rush into my mind. I can hear, for the very first time! My creator smiles lovingly at me and takes hold of something else they had just attached: my hands.

I can feel everything, every crease and line in my creator's hands, and it is _amazing._

I am overwhelmed by these new sensations, and I barely register that my creator is speaking, but I still hear every sweet word they say in their loving voice:

"You're finally complete. Happy birthday, Tornado Step."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a true story. All of the things that happen to Tornado Step in this story happened in real life, to his plushie counterpart... Excluding this final chapter. The real Tornado Step still hasn't been finished, even after all these years.
> 
> Open to interpretation. Is this just a child's flight of fancy? Or does "the creator" really have the power to bring their creations to life?


End file.
